At the Summerfarm

by Catherine Madsen

Who would suppose, in this age of large-scale dairy farms and robotic milking machines, that the way to bring your cows home is to lure them with beauty?

That’s what traditional Scandinavian farm women did from time out of mind, in high-pitched melodic phrases known as kulning. The unmarried women and the older women—anyone who didn’t have small children to look after—would take the cows for the summer up to the mountains, where the forests were carefully managed to produce grass for grazing. Under the midnight sun they would look after their herds, guard them from bears and wolves, and work hard at making butter and cheese for the winter. The summerfarm was known as the fäbod in Sweden and the seter in Norway; there used to be about 20,000 of them. Today there might be 200.

To anyone whose general sense of how to call animals is limited to “ HERE kittykittykitty” and “SooEEEEEE,” the musicality of kulning is a revelation. The kulning scale, demonstrated here by Maria Misgeld, is called the vallåtsmodus (herding tune mode). What it’s like in practical use is shown by this field recording of Karin Edvardsson, excerpted from the 1966 album “Lockrop och Vallåtar/Ancient Swedish Pastoral Music”. Edvardsson’s virtuosity is electrifying; it’s not surprising that she was the first to transplant kulning from the farm to the stage.

Singer and folk music researcher Susanne Rosenberg, whom you heard at the first link as part of a trio performing Sven Ahlbäck’s “Vallåtar from Gammelboning,” knows more about the science of kulning than anyone else. In terms of vocal technique, the sound is produced not by lowering the larynx and creating space in the throat as for classical singing, but by raising the larynx, resulting in a piercing, nasal tone that can carry as far as three miles. There is no vibrato. The decibel level is quite high—it’s been measured at 125, not something you want to be standing right next to. The pitch can go right up into what’s called whistle voice, Rosenberg’s workshops have introduced generations of women to the technique; her website offers books, CDs and learning resources, including a kulning course with book and CD. The warmups alone are worth the price of the course; how many voice coaches will teach you how to bark in Swedish?

Other learning options are available as well. Rosenberg’s student Maria Misgeld has posted a series of step-by-step YouTube tutorials, and Karin Kolterud offers workshops and Zoom lessons. Kolterud’s teacher was Agneta Stolpe, shown here from about 7:18 to 8:36 (vocalists will find the closeups helpful).

Among the many younger exponents of the form, some to watch are Mari Midtli and Synnøve Brøndbo Plassen, whose album Den lyse dag features examples of kulning for cows, sheep and goats. YouTube phenomenon Jonna Jinton has a playlist of her kulning videos, including a haunting reworking of the Swedish national anthem, “Du gamla, du fria”. (Compare the official version of the anthem to appreciate the difference.)

Try kulning yourself—taking all proper precautions to learn the technique and do the warmups, because you can damage your voice by launching into the vocal stratosphere incautiously. Cows will certainly take notice of it—so will ravens and deer (I haven’t tried moose yet)—but to get them to come to you, you’ll probably have to feed them. Kulning developed on the basis of reciprocity with domestic animals, and beauty may have a natural link to need.

 

 

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